


In the End

by Rosewood_Writes



Series: Iron Maiden [2]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Blood, Blood and Gore, Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Gen, Gore, Loss of Limbs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-27
Updated: 2018-11-27
Packaged: 2019-09-01 11:06:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16763920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rosewood_Writes/pseuds/Rosewood_Writes
Summary: Thom knew Ilya was on borrowed time when the mark began to flair. They both were. The end was in sight, their races almost run. But when Ilya is badly wounded, Thom realizes how unprepared he is for his Inquisitor to finally meet her end.





	In the End

**Author's Note:**

> This is a two part fic! Part two will be posted some time next week!

Thom heard the crackle as the saarebas finally fell. Ilya let out a howl as the anchor flared. She collapsed to her knees, desperately clutching at her wrist. Green light flashed as it engulfed her arm. He could see the light reflected in her eyes, wide and glassy from the pain.  
“Shit! Damn it!” She cried. “Everyone back!”  
All he had time to do was shield his eyes from the flash of light before the anchor discharged. In an instant, he was blown back by the force of the magic explosion. He bounced twice before smacking into a boulder. The impact sent stars dancing across his vision. Above the ringing in his ears, he could hear Ilya screaming in agony.   
“Ilya!” He roared. Dazed, he pushed himself up, desperately searching the ruins for any sign of her. She was already on her feet, clutching her wrist tightly as she staggered toward the eluvian. The anchor was already crackling again, priming up for another discharge. “Ilya, no!”  
All he could think of was what forces would be awaiting her on the other side of that mirror, as they had nearly every time they jumped from one blasted portal to the next, chasing after the Viddasala. He wouldn’t let her go alone. Not if he could help it.   
He staggered to his feet, scooping up his sword and shield as he went. She was almost to the mirror, a grimace on her face as the anchor continued to flash and crackle. Maker, what an awful sight the damned thing was.   
“Ilya!” Thom screamed her name again, his throat raw from the shouting. “Damn it, Woman; stop!”  
Despite his calling, she did not stop. He charged after her, reaching out for her fingers as she passed through the mirror. As the last of her disappeared, the mirror shut off. He hit the glass, bouncing harmlessly off of the surface.  
“No, no, no, no….” He shook his head in disbelief. He banged on the now empty frame, refusing to believe that she was gone. How would she get back if the mirror had turned off? What---where--- had that mirror led her to? “No!”  
“There’s gotta be another way, right?” Sera said quietly. “I mean, she’s not stuck on the other side, right? Can’t be.”  
“Well, we have no way of knowing now,” Dorian said. “We can only hope that she’s still alive wherever the mirror took her.”  
“We should go back, get help,” Sera looked between the mirror and Thom, clearly at a loss for words. He couldn't blame her. What would they tell the others if she didn't return? What would become of the inquisition if she wasn't there to face the Council?  
“I’m not leaving until she comes back.” Thom shook his head and stabbed his sword into the dirt. His hands were shaking now, whether from rage or fear or shock, he didn’t know. He knew that both he and Ilya were both on borrowed time. It was something they’d come to discuss greatly the last few days. But this wasn’t how he wanted it to end; not like this. They had agreed to go out together: to either finish this, or die trying. And he’d be damned if he wasn’t beside her in the end.   
Sera and Dorian exchanged worried glances and sat beside him, silent. While they waited, Dorian slung off his pack and tended to the cut that was leaking blood into Sera’s left eye. Thom peeled his helmet off and wiped the dried blood off of his upper lip and the sweat from his brow. Every few seconds he looked over his shoulder at the eluvian, hoping to see Ilya march out of it, shining like she always did.  
The silence between them was tense, heavy with worry and despair. Ilya had always been brash, always the first to fling herself fearlessly into the fray. But this wasn’t their usual fight. These weren’t usual circumstances.  
Back then, she was fine. The anchor wasn’t slowly rotting her arm from the inside out. This wasn’t just courage on her part. She had a death wish, and he knew it well. The inquisitor he loved was not a woman who wanted to slowly wither with age or sickness. Ilya was a warrior, and was determined to go out that way.   
“How long do you think it’s been?” Sera asked, looking back at the still mirror.   
“Hasn’t even been an hour, yet,” Thom muttered.   
“We should go get help.” Sera rose to her feet. “I can’t sit here all mopey anymore.”  
“We can’t have you wandering off alone. I’m coming with you,” Dorian followed her as she started down the hill. They looked back at Thom expectantly. After a moment’s hesitation, Thom gave the eluvian one final glance before rising to his feet to follow the others. As much as he wanted to stay, the two of them alone didn’t stand a chance if there were any qunari still left standing behind them.   
He looked over his shoulder in awe when he heard a crackle come from the mirror. Ilya stumbled through the eluvian, her face pale, twisted up in agony as she clutched her arm. She was covered in blood, though how much of it was actually hers, he didn’t know. Her sword and shield were gone.  
“Ilya,” He sighed in relief as he rushed to her. As he got closer, he realized that she wasn’t clutching her arm, but a bloody stump where the anchor had once been. In an instant, he was hauling her up off the ground, shouting for Dorian. He propped her up against his chest, shaking her slightly to keep her conscious. “You stay with us, you hear?”  
“Solas,” She said quietly, her eyes fluttering open for a brief moment. “Solas….”  
“Don’t worry about him right now,” Sera said. “Worry about your frigging arm, Stupid! You can fix it, can’t you?”  
Dorian muttered several curses under his breath as he peeled back the tattered remains of her mail shirt to assess the damage. Thom clutched Ilya's hand tightly to keep her from reaching at the open wound as her arm bled freely. She was beginning to tremble now.   
“Stay with us,” He whispered in her ear. “Don’t you go dying on me now. Not after all this.”  
“Thom….” She squeezed his hand, a weak smile crinkling the scar at the edge of her lip.   
“Maker’s breath, what a mangled mess. I need something to cut off the circulation or she’ll bleed to death,” Dorian said.  
“Sera, your belt,” Thom said. “Quickly.”  
Sera dropped her bow, fingers fumbling frantically to undo her belt. Dorian snatched it from her, wrapping it as tightly as he could just above Ilya’s elbow. Thom had to close his eyes as the mage drew the dagger from his belt and began to heat the blade with fire.   
“What’s all that for?” Sera asked.  
“If I don’t get the bleeding to stop, we won’t make it back in time to save her. I have to cauterize the wound,” Dorian grimaced.   
“Sera, help me hold her down,” Thom said.  
“But-”  
“Nows no time to argue, Sera!” Thom snapped. “Help me hold her down!”  
In an instant, Sera was on the ground beside Dorian, her face going paler by the second as she pushed down on Ilya’s ankles. Maker, the poor girl look petrified. But they didn’t have time to be scared, or panic. This had to be done, and it had to be done quickly. Thom wrapped an arm around Ilya’s chest, resting his head against hers. The other arm he wrapped under her right armpit to restrain her arm. He looked up at Dorian and nodded once.   
“This is going to hurt,” He whispered in her ear.  
All he got in response was a weak groan. He tensed his arms when Ilya’s body jerked. She howled in agony, desperately trying to pull away as Dorian tried to stem the flow of the bleeding. Sera went flying back a few feet as Ilya kicked her legs. The screams tore at his ears, piercing and savage.   
“Keep her still!” Dorian growled through gritted teeth.  
“Damnit, Sera; hold her down!” Thom shouted, struggling to keep his grip on Ilya as she kicked and thrashed.   
“I’m trying, alright?” Sera snapped back, throwing herself on Ilya’s legs. Tears were streaming down her face now. She snarled through the pain as Ilya continued to thrash and kick, screaming at the top of her lungs.   
“Almost done. Keep her still a moment longer,” Dorian said as he reheated the blade. Thom wrinkled up his nose at the scent of singed flesh. Ilya relaxed slightly, but he didn’t loosen his grip. It wasn’t over yet.   
“Can’t you just use your frigging hand to do this faster? She’s dying!” Sera cried as Dorian pressed the blade to her arm again, eliciting more cries of agony from Ilya.   
“If I do that, I risk damaging more nerves and bone. This is the only way,” Dorian shot a reproachful glare over his shoulder at Sera. She glared back, nose twitching slightly.  
“Maker, both of you focus!” Thom barked.   
The two fell silent and looked away from each other. Dorian’s hands were shaking now with every press of the blade. The sick, nasty sizzling sound made Thom’s stomach want to do backflips. Maker, would she ever stop bleeding? Even with the belt, her arm had been bleeding steadily. Ilya was white as a sheet now, growing weaker by the minute. Her struggling had weakened, and her screams were more like pitiful and quiet whimpering, begging them to stop.   
“That’s as good as I can get it. Let’s move.” Dorian wiped the last of the blood from the dagger. He quickly wrapped the stump as best he could and grabbed his staff. Sera jumped to her feet, grabbing Thom’s sword and her bow, ready to be off.  
“You two go ahead of me. I can carry her myself,” Thom said as Dorian reached for Ilya’s legs. With an effort he hauled her up off the ground and started back the way they had come.   
The journey back was hauntingly silent. None of them dared speak a word, too fearful of alerting any enemies still lurking about. But all they encountered were the corpses of those they had killed only moments before. The scent of blood hung heavily in the air as they went from portal to portal.   
Every so often, they would pause for a minute or two. Thom could only carry Ilya so far before the battle fatigue and exhaustion settled in and his strength began to waver. The others didn’t protest. Dorian would hover over Ilya, checking on her arm and patting her cheeks to make sure she hadn’t completely blacked out. Just the sight of her---pallid and clammy, with her eyes sinking into her skull---made Thom’s chest ache. Could he have saved her from this? Was he losing her?  
Once his arms were rested enough, they would continue on through the maze of eluvians. Any sound had them all tense and reaching for weapons: the crackle of a fire; the flapping of flags in the wind; the crunch of stone under foot. But thankfully, none seemed left to attack them. The corpses strewn throughout were haunting reminders of just how hard their fight had been.   
Sera let out a choked sob when she saw the eluvian leading back to the Winter Palace. In an instant, she was running as fast as she could. Dorian raced after her, pausing only to look back at Thom before passing through the mirror as well. Thom took a deep breath before following him.  
The sound of frantic voices hit him as he passed through to the other side. Cullen and Leliana were standing off to the side, speaking with Dorian and Sera. Ashton was pacing the doorway, his face pale with worry as he twisted his staff in his hands. His head snapped up when he spotted Thom.   
“Mother!” Ashton cried as he saw Ilya’s limp figure in his arms. He rushed forward, taking his mother’s face in his hands. He froze when he saw the bandages. “Maker, where’s her arm…?”  
“Maker’s breath…” Cullen looked up and rushed forward, taking Ilya from Thom’s arms.  
“She needs a healer, quickly,” Thom murmured as his arms fell to his sides. Every muscle was screaming at him now. The rush of other voices in the room was disorienting. He was vaguely aware of Ashton’s hand on his shoulder, of Sera sobbing as Dorian consoled her, of Cullen rushing out of the room. Ashton hurried after the commander. Thom took a few weary steps forward to follow, but Leliana stopped him. She ignored his attempts to go around her, blocking his path.  
“The Vidisaala,” she said. “What happened?”  
“I don’t know,” Thom hung his head. This was what he’d been dreading the entire trek back. They’d all want answers, and Ilya was the only one who could possibly give them. He was too tired to think, too sore.   
“And Solas?”  
“I don’t know,” Thom balled up his fists. There would be time enough for questions later. He was in no mood to live through it all again. “Ilya ran ahead, and the eluvian shut off behind her. She’s the only one who might be able to answer you.”  
Leliana’s expression darkened for a brief moment. She nodded solemnly, turned on her heels, and walked out the door into the dark without another word. With a stifled groan, he made his way slowly to his room, ready to collapse and rest for a few hours. He knew better than to seek Ilya out while the healers were working. Eventually, he would have his time to see her, regardless of their success or failure.  
The room was dark and quiet, as it was when he had left earlier that day. With an effort he started to remove his armor, letting it all fall into a heap on the floor. He peeled off the bloodsoaked shirt and pants underneath. Blood and dirt coated him from head to toe. Here and there, he could see knicks and cuts where swords and spears had clipped his mail. Giant bruises covered his legs and his chest where arrows had struck him. Undoubtedly there were more on his back.  
Wearily, he trudged to the washroom, pleased to find a steaming bath waiting for him. Thom lowered himself slowly into the water, wincing and growling as his numerous wounds smarted and stung. For a long while, he just sat back in the water, letting his tired muscles rest. The water ran red as he washed the grim from his skin.   
When the water began to chill, he climbed out of the tub to dry off. Donning a fresh shirt and pants, he sat at the foot of the bed and buried his face in his hands, awaiting someone to seek him out and tell him the news. He hoped against hope that she would pull through, but she had seemed so close to death when they had whisked her away. Part of him knew it was a possibility that she would die. And despite all the conversation, all their attempts to reconcile each other in the knowledge that their ends were drawing ever closer, Thom really wasn’t ready to say farewell.  
It wasn’t long before there was a knock on his door to rouse him from his worrying. He stood up slowly, wincing as his knees ached and protested. Ashton stood on the other side of the door, hand still raised, ready to knock again.   
“Sister Leliana insisted a healer be sent to examine you. Both Sera and Dorian were checked out, but you wandered off after your return,” He said. “May I come in?”  
Thom stepped aside, welcoming him in. The boy busied himself with lighting the oil lamps. He set his bag of supplies on the bed and stared expectantly at him. With a tired sigh. Thom removed his shirt and sat in front of him. Without hesitation, Ashton set to work, examining every cut, scrape and bruise.   
“How is your mother?” Thom asked. “I figured you would be working with her.”  
“Lady Nightingale insisted I not be a part of the healers’ work, insisted I was too shaken to do my job properly. They’ve kept both Kalia and me as far away from them as possible. They’re still working on her, and from what I could hear from the servants fetching the rags, she isn’t doing well,” Ashton said quietly. Thom could hear the worry in his voice. “What happened out there?”  
“I don’t know.” Thom winced slightly as the healer’s fingers prodded a large purple bruise where an arrow had bounced off of his back. “We were chasing the Vidisaala through portal after portal. And the anchor just kept discharging, more violently and more frequently with every explosion. We got stopped by a massive saarebas. When he finally went down, the anchor discharged, flinging the three of us back. She charged ahead to the next eluvian, and it shut behind her. Whatever happened, we have no way of knowing unless she pulls through.”  
Ashton nodded slowly, drinking in his words as he worked. He placed his hands on either side of Thom’s face, scrutinizing him as he looked into his eyes, “You’re definitely concussed. Your shield arm is severely bruised, as is your back. But for the most part, you’re okay.” After a few more minutes of prodding and pressing, he stepped back and pulled his sleeves back down, apparently satisfied with his work. “I won’t fuss over you too much. You’ll be sore in the morning, but at least you’ll live.”  
Thom forced a short chuckle, “I wouldn’t doubt that.”  
“Leliana wanted me to tell you that she wishes to speak with you further about what happened. What would you like me to tell her?”  
Thom scowled. Of course she wasn’t going to let it rest. “Tell Sister Nightengale that she can piss off until Ilya comes around. I don’t have any answers for her.”  
Ashton smiled softly. “I’ll inform her you are in no condition to report. Try to get some rest, Thom. I’ll let you know when I hear more about how my mother is doing.”


End file.
